


Mirages

by eerian_sadow



Series: Bedroom Toys [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Found Family, Friendship, M/M, Multi, Prostitution, Sex Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-08-29 01:24:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8470300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: On the street in front of Lucky Thirteen, Jazz meets a homeless mech who needs a hand up. It's the first step in a very long friendship.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 of this universe, starting somewhere around chapter 5 or so of Lucky Thirteen. Only very mild spoilers for unpublished sections of that fic. 
> 
> and since it hasn't come up in L13, let me introduce you to a bit of slang used by the employees frequently in 'verse.
> 
> Professional: a professional sex worker, generally employed by a pimp or brothel  
> Chain: a slave used in the sex trade  
> Streetwalker: a professional who works a corner or literally walks up and down the streets looking for clients  
> Loungefly: a professional who works in a brothel (sometimes looked down on by streetwalkers because of their better accommodations)  
> Blank Chip (or Blank): a client picked up off the street or non-regular customer at a brothel.

Jazz watched, optics narrowed behind his visor, as the client grabbed the blue and white mech’s head and forcefully tipped it back. The blue and white mech whimpered, but allowed himself to be mechandled into the position the client wanted. Then the mech in the ground opened his mouth and offlined his optics.

 

The client released one of the blue mech’s helm vents to caress his face, almost like they were really lovers and Jazz wasn't just about to watch a streetwalker have his face fragged hard enough to dent for less than half of what his services were worth. Then the client retracted his modesty panel and let his spike extended directly into the blue and white mech’s mouth.

 

The whole act was mechanical after that. The blue mech wasn't given a chance to showcase any skills he might have; the client simply rutted into his mouth, grunting and clanging his way to an overload. 

 

Jazz tried to pretend he didn't see how the slender mech’s nose was bent out of shape as the client sprayed transfluid over it.

 

“Oh yeah, pretty mech. That was the best throat frag I've had in months. I'm gonna tell _all_ my friends where your corner is. We like to share.”

 

The language, bordering on hostile and abusive, finally forced Jazz out if the shadows. The mech on his knees might be desperate, but he didn't deserve to be treated like a toy to be _used_ whenever some blank thought he could. “Pay the mech and get lost. You're done in this neighborhood tonight.”

 

“You should stay out of business that's not yours,” the client said, shoving the kneeling mech away. “Otherwise, someone might have to put you in your place.”

 

“You're on my turf, outside my place, fragging one of my colleagues. That makes it my business.” Jazz took a step closer, flicking his doorwings low against his back in case the other mech tried to rush him and grab them. “Now pay the mech and _go home._ ”

 

For one long, tense moment, Jazz thought the blank might actually assault him. Then the client tsked loudly and threw a credit chit--not nearly enough to cover the going rate for a blowjob, but the visored mech wasn't going to push his luck--down to the ground in front of the blue mech. “You aren't worth the trouble.”

 

Then the blank turned away and stalked down the street. Jazz sighed in relief as the angry mech stomped across the street and into Strika’s neighborhood; the femme would put him in his place if the mech tried to start any more trouble tonight.

 

“I could have gotten twice this, if you hadn't interfered.” The blue mech stared down at the credit chit as he tried to rub the transfluid off his face with one hand. 

 

“I know his kind, mech.” Jazz knelt down next to him and offered the streetwalker a rag from his subspace. “He would’ve roughed you up, hurt you enough that you couldn't fight back and then raped you. I'm sorry you didn't get paid, but I'm not sorry that you're safe.”

 

“At least the emergency clinic will give me energon.” The blue mech reached out and picked up the credit chit. 

 

The statement made the black and white mech frown. “Mech, have you got someplace to stay?”

 

The streetwalker shook his head. “My sire cast me out a vorn ago, without even the lease for an apartment to my name.”

 

“I was afraid you were going to say something like that.” Jazz sighed and stood up. Then he extended a hand to the blue mech. “Come on. I'll put you up at Lucky Thirteen for a few days, til you can figure out what to do with yourself. We're a bunch of spoiled loungeflies, but the doors lock and we have energon.”

 

“Lucky Thirteen? Isn't that a brothel?”

 

“Yeah, it is. But it's also safe. No blank chips wrecking your face and no Enforcers taking you in for working without a license.” Jazz wiggled his fingers in an attempt to get the blue mech to take his hand. “We've got energon and a real discreet medic on call, too.”

 

Slowly, the blue mech extended his hand--the one not covered in transfluid, thankfully--and laid it in Jazz’s. “I suppose that even a brothel must be a step up from beginning to perform degrading acts for credits in an alley.”

 

“I went from streetwalker to loungefly myself, and I promise that it was the best decision I ever made.” The visored mech pulled the blue mech up onto his feet. “I'm Jazz, by the way.”

 

“Mirage.”

 

“Wish the circumstances had been better, but it's nice to meet you, Mirage.”


	2. Chapter 2

Mirage looked around the small room with an expression that was close to shock. Jazz had to fight the urge to smile at the look on the blue mech’s face. 

 

“Are you certain you won't get into trouble with your ...employer for giving me this much space?” Mirage hesitated over Stripper’s title, and the black and white mech felt even more sure about his decision to bring him to Lucky Thirteen. Most mechs would have just assumed Stripper was their pimp, instead of a legitimate businessmech. 

 

“Nah, I won't get into any trouble. Stripper might be the big boss, but I'm in charge of damn near everything around here.” Jazz gave into the urge to smile finally. “I still take clients and dance, but most of my time is spent making sure everything is safe.”

 

“I'm glad your subordinates have someone so dedicated to their care.” The blue mech didn't return the smile. He sighed and wrapped his arms around himself, indicating that Jazz had accidentally rubbed metal shavings in an open wound. “I was keeping a few belongings at the shelter a few blocks away. Will I be allowed to retrieve them?”

 

“Of course you will. You're free to come and go, as much as you like. I meant it when I said this is just a safe place to stay while you get on your feet. I ain't looking for a slave.”

 

“Forgive me.” Mirage stared down at the floor. “Where I was raised, we were taught that all brothels were staffed with mechanisms who had no choice but to be there. I am learning that a great many of those teachings are wrong, but it has been difficult to overcome some things.”

 

“Nothing for that but time and experience.” Jazz patted the slender mech softly on the shoulder. “If you want to unpack whatever’s in your subspace, I'll send our medic up to look at your face.”

 

“I would rather retrieve my belongings, first.”

 

“Trust me, it'll heal better if you let First Aid look at it now. Then we can head over together and get your stuff. I want to let Strika’s security know you're one of us anyway, so they don't hassle you while you're working.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Oh! Who’s this?!” 

 

Mirage flinched at the unfamiliar voice as he came down the stairs. Jazz sighed and grabbed Flareup’s elbow before she could run over and introduce herself by pinning the mech in the stairwell. 

 

“That's Mirage. He's staying in the spare room for a while, til he finds something topside or builds up enough client base for his own place.” Jazz gestured with his free hand, beckoning the blue mech closer. “Mirage, this is Flareup. Her room’s on the third floor, and she's usually the first of us up for the day. You'll probably see her as much as me while you're here.”

 

“I see.” The blue mech left the stairs and joined the pair at the bar. “You didn't say last night; how many of you are there?”

 

“thirteen employees and the boss. I told Stripper we should have stopped at twelve, but apparently we’re supposed to be the lucky numbers, not him” The black and white mech set an empty cube on the bar in front of Mirage. “How do you want your energon?”

 

“Jazz always mixes right,” Flareup said brightly. “Even if the rest of the day is slag, Jazz will at least start you off right.”

 

“I cant… The shanix i received last night are all I have.” The slender mech turned away and looked down at the floor. His hurt and humiliation were clear in his posture. “It won't pay for energon of any quality.”

 

“Mirage, step into the office with me, will you?” Jazz slipped out from behind the bar and walked toward the unmarked door. 

 

“No, it's me, I'll go.” Flareup jumped off her stool and moved toward the stairs. “I didn't mean to upset you, Mirage. I'm sorry.”

 

Mirage watched the brightly colored femme ascend the stairs before turning to look at jazz. “I should have requested clearer terms of our arrangement. I will gather my things and leave promptly.”

 

“That's not what's wrong, mirage.” The visored mech replied. “I knew you didn't have shanix when I said you could stay here, and I knew you didn't have them this morning. I ain't asking for your money. That room upstairs is to give you someplace safe to stay til you find one of your own. The energon is so you _stay alive_ long enough to do it. And maybe someday you have the money to pay me back, but I ain't asking for it and I never will.”

 

Mirage looked away again. “Why are you being so generous? You don't even know me.”

 

“No, but I've been where you were last night. Desperation is an ugly thing, and it makes you do ugly things.” 

 

“Jazz…”

 

“I never killed anybody, or anything like that, but before someone gave me a safe place to stay I was selling the energon from my own fuel lines because the i could make more money off that than a fresh cube cost. I've still got some of the scars.” Jazz reached out and touched Mirage’s arm, hoping the contact would be comforting. “I don't know your story, and maybe someday we’ll know each other well enough to share them, but I know you were about a half-step from selling your own fluids and I wouldn't wish that kind of life on anyone.”


	4. Chapter 4

It was raining when Mirage tried to go out and work the street before the bar opened. In the under levels, it wasn't the torrential downpours they sometimes fell victim to in his former home, but the heavy drizzle was almost more dangerous with the way it hung in the air for joors.

He wasn't sure if he was upset that he couldn't go out, or relieved that he would stave off his slow descent into debasement.

“Be glad you didn't have to drive over in this.”

The blue mech turned toward the speaker, a red mech with a frame type that fell somewhere between light warframe and racer. “Excuse me?”

“I said that you should be glad you didn't have to drive over in this. Acid mist this heavy is a nightmare to get out of your undercarriage. I think I spent twenty groons in Jazz’s shower scrubbing down.”

“That sounds…” to be honest, Mirage thought a twenty groon shower sounded divine, but he refused to give anyone ammunition to use against him until he knew how safe all the employees were. “Frustrating.”

“It was, but Jazz’s shower has decent solvent pressure so it wasn't as bad as it could have been. I'm Sideswipe, by the way.” The red mech held out his arm, palm facing the ceiling in a warrior’s greeting his uncle had taught him.

“Mirage.” He returned the gesture, laying his palm against Sideswipe’s and then sliding his hand up until he could clasp the other mech’s forearm. 

“I'm impressed. Not many mechs know a military greeting like that.”

“One of my uncles served during Lord Protector Bastion’s tenure. He taught me when I was young.”

“That's great!” If possible, Sideswipe’s smile widened. “You'll have to let me know what else he taught you, sometime. But not now, since we open in like two joors.”

“I might, yes.” Mirage didn't think he actually would, but having Sideswipe’s genuine interest had been nice and he didn't want to lose that feeling. 

“If anyone hassles you tonight, give me a shout. I'll toss ‘em out in the rain so fast their heads will spin.” With that, the red mech let go of Mirage’s arm and made his way to a small counter by the door. 

“Hey, Mirage.” Jazz tapped him on the shoulder gently. “Ain't nobot going to be out in taht long enough for you to pick up any business. You want to freelance waiting tables or something to make some cash tonight?”

He hadn't ever waited tables, but he had often watched the servants in his former home do it, and thought it could be something he could learn easily enough. “Yes, thank you, Jazz. Any skill is something that might make me more valuable to an employer on the future, after all.”

“And money is money, no matter where it came from.” The visored mech smiled. “Come round to the bar with me and I'll teach you the basics.”

 

“Primus below, I had no idea my legs could hurt this much.” Mirage dropped down into an empty chair with a groan. “I ache in places I did not know contained pain receptors.”

“Waiting tables will do that.” Sideswipe set a can of cheap coolant on the table next to him and sat down in the opposite chair. “Most of us aren't built for all the twisting and turning.”

“I was not built for many things.” The blue mech reached out for the coolant and was pleasantly surprised to find it already opened. “I am certain that I will adjust.”

“yeah, you will. And for what it's worth, you were good at it. All your customers looked really happy, and happy customers tip well.”

“That they do, my mechs.” Jazz smiled at them from the bar. “Flareup said her tips were doubled tonight, and I've hit that for dancing and then some.”

“I have no idea what constitutes a good night, but I believe I have almost five hundred shanix in my subspace.” Mirage hoped he didn't look as unsure as he felt.

“That's a fragging good night!” Sideswipe grinned. “Almost makes me wish I wasn't the bouncer.”

“Well, the next time Jazz needs help with tables you're welcome to them.” The blue mech relaxed at the bouncer’s encouraging response. “Half, anyway. The shanix is nice, but I am not certain that I can make it up the stairs now.”

“Shouldn't be anything a good recharge won't fix,” Jazz assured him. “But if you're still that sore in the morning we’ll call Aid and have him make sure you didn't stress fracture anything.”

“Thank you.” Mirage gave the black and white mech a weak smile. “Let me just finished this coolant and I will help you with cleaning.”

“Nah, mech. You finish that coolant and go to bed. Me and Flareup and the others can get this.”

“I'll walk you up, if that's okay,” Sideswipe added. “I don't want you falling down those stairs if something _is_ damaged and we can't see it.”

“Thank you, Sideswipe. I would appreciate an escort.”

“Careful now.” The red mech's grin turned mischievous. “In this line of business that word means something else entirely.”

Mirage stared for a moment, then he broke into soft laughter at the joke.


End file.
